Blood of the Goddess Book I: The Locust King
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Locusts at the Gate Chapter 2: A New Name Chapter 3: The Capital Prepares Chapter 4: The Princess is Dead, Long Live the Princess Chapter 5: Outside the Gates Chapter 6: Inside the Black Tent Chapter 7: Surrender at the Temple Chapter 8: The Cult of the Locust Chapter 9: The Locust's Tenets of Faith Chapter 10: Mourners on the Cliff Chapter 11: The Eye of Betrayal Chapter 12: The Dead King's Bedchamber Chapter 13: The Arms of the Goddess Chapter 14: Zayaan of the Narim Chapter 15: The Eyes of the Priestess Chapter 16: A More Permanent Disguise Chapter 17: Tribute Chapter 18: Sacrifice of the New Moon Chapter 19: The Lost Bird Chapter 20: Manah and the Priestess Chapter 21: Desert Creatures Chapter 22: Become the Swarm Chapter 23 The Price of Betrayal Chapter 24: Life Under the Locust Chapter 25: Wild Rose Chapter 26: The Lady Wren Chapter 27: Thought and Desire Chapter 28: The Lady's Captivity Chapter 29: The Wine Maiden Chapter 30: End of Childhood Chapter 31: The Children of Aisha Chapter 32: The Forest Runner Chapter 33: Three Sisters Chapter 34: The Hunt Chapter 35: Bones in the Forest Chapter 36: Lullaby Chapter 37: The Hunter's Horn Chapter 38: Ways Between Ways Chapter 39: Morning Star Chapter 40: A Prophecy for Baraz Chapter 41: Equinox Fires Chapter 42: The Lord Prince Takri Chapter 43: Evening Star Sets Chapter 44: Chaos in the Courtyard Chapter 45: Dasha Chapter 46: Memories Chapter 47: The Body Slave Chapter 48: Caged Beasts Chapter 49: Message from the Capital Chapter 50: Heresiarch Chapter 51: The Color of Blood Chapter 52: Winter Winds Chapter 53: The Bookmaker's Closet Chapter 54: Wrapped in Dignity and Beauty Chapter 55: Vessel of the Goddess Chapter 56: Cracks in the Walls Chapter 57: Two Brothers Chapter 58: The Court of Women Chapter 59: Favored of the King Chapter 60: The Sweetest Fruit Chapter 61: Daughter of the Temple Chapter 62: A Nation of Bastards Chapter 63: The Lute Player Chapter 64: Aisha's Prayer Chapter 65: Promises Chapter 66: Lives Lost Chapter 67: The Tea Maker Chapter 68: Object of Desire Chapter 69: Empty Shelves Chapter 70: Darkness and Light Chapter 71: The Love of Men Chapter 72: The Cursed Ones Chapter 73: Hiding Places Chapter 74: Old Men's Tales Chapter 75: False Prophecies Chapter 76: The Lord Prince Radu Chapter 77: Love Becomes Life Chapter 78: Mistress and Mother Chapter 79: A Test of Strength Chapter 80: The Strigoi-Viu Cometh Chapter 81: Scraps from the Table Chapter 82: A Fool's Errand Chapter 83: The Little Ghost Chapter 84: Stolen Honeycakes Chapter 85: Breathe Chapter 86: Beneath the Palace Chapter 87: Red Pebbles Chapter 88: Common Men Chapter 89: Love and Duty Chapter 90: Nightmares Chapter 91: Earth and Sun Chapter 92: Love and Creation Chapter 93: Until My Last Breath Chapter 94: Fruit and Flower Chapter 95: Two Days Chapter 96: Small ComfortsChapter 59: Favored of the King
Night fell over the palace. In Takri’s quarters, Yelena inspected his appearance, adjusting his clothing until she felt certain it met the requirements of a member of the royal household.
Takri shifted in his clothes, trying without success to make himself feel comfortable. The black woolen fabric, no matter how finely woven, caused the skin at his neck and wrists to itch where it was heavily embroidered with red locust wings. The new leather of his breeches and boots felt constrictive. He longed for the comfort of loose-fitting tunics and the warmth of the desert.
"I have done my part, master," said Yelena. "You look as close to a Lord Prince as I can make you. The rest is up to you."
Takri smiled and tried again to pull the collar loose from his neck. "I will do my best, Yelena."
"When you return, I will try to wash some of the itch out of the shirt," said Yelena. "Just make sure to come back. I do not wish to return to my duties as wine maiden to the Swarm just yet."
"I won't die yet, little sister," said Takri.
"Just come back." A rap on the door interrupted her. "They are here to retrieve you. Remember who you are. The Lord Prince Takri of the house of Mahleck. Cruel and ruthless witch hunter. Favored adopted son of the God-Among-Men."
She opened the door to his escort, a servant dressed in Mahleck's black and red livery. Takri followed him down the silent halls and up several flights of stairs until they reached their destination, a tower room much too large for an intimate dinner. Paneless windows covered the eastern wall overlooking the desert below. A large fireplace on the opposite side of the room burned with a roaring fire, providing enough heat to keep the room comfortable even against the cold of winter outside the windows where a full moon hung in a black sky sprinkled with stars.
Takri ignored the rest of the room, quickly making his way to the windows to drink in the desert air. Below lay the foothills where he spent his childhood playing with his cousins. Where he lost his father, his mother, and his tribe. He imagined he could see the lights of the training camp, and the light of a small lantern at the far western outpost. Was Zayaan still keeping watch out in the dark? Of all places in the world, Takri did not expect to be standing above the desert in the royal palace of Adyll. This should be Zayaan's place, not his.
The sound of a man clearing his throat behind him startled Takri out of his reverie. He turned, expecting to find that the strigoi-viu had appeared beside him. Instead, he found the high priest of the Locust.
"Lord Prince Takri, is it not?" sneered Baraz. "I suppose you have recovered from your exploits among the Adyllian witches by now."
"Yes. I have recovered," said Takri. "I am honored you remembered me."
"Of course I remember you. How could I not? How does a man forget meeting someone set to take his place?" said Baraz.
Takri looked quizzically at the wiry man before him. Baraz was at least ten years older than Takri's father had been when Mahleck killed him more than two years ago. He remembered the high priest from that night. How he stood with Mahleck before the pile of bodies of Takri's people and spoke words to bind Lilua and the strigoi-viu as man and wife. Baraz was only a favored spiritual advisor then, now he presided over the temple itself.
"What do you mean?" asked Takri. "I am not worthy of your position."
"I hope you remember that, nomad. We will get along much better if you do," said Baraz. "When I was a young man, I would do anything to gain the favor of our divine master. Before me, there was another. And before him, someone else, on and on since the first men walked the eastern mountains at the edge of the world."
"I am ignorant of the world past the edge of the great desert," said Takri. "I am only a soldier. I have no knowledge to compare to your own, high priest."
"I hope your ignorance translates to humility," said Baraz. "I was born in the homeland of the Locust. I fought for him, grasping for any chance at greatness, for any moment where he might cast his eyes in my direction. I sacrificed everything for him. Family, the life of a husband and father. All sacrificed for love of the Locust. You and I both know that to curry favor with Mahleck is to court God. But our God's favor waxes and wanes like the moon. Enjoy the light he sheds upon you now. And know that it is fleeting. We only bask in his eternal glory for a moment."
"He is our God and King," said Takri. "I live only to serve."
"We will see how long any of us live," said Baraz. "We only exist for his pleasure. Perhaps you can ask your cousin about Mahleck’s pleasure once she arrives for the meal. I have been told there will be whores in attendance tonight, after all." He narrowed his eyes, looking for any reaction from Takri.
He wants to goad you. Do not react, thought Takri, gritting his teeth.
"It honors me that my cousin is bride of the God-King," said Takri. "He honors us both by her presence. I am surprised he is willing to share her company with the likes of us, seeing as she is his only wife to share his bed."
"If you will excuse me, the warmth of the fireplace beckons," said Baraz. “I do not enjoy the Adyllian cold, having been born in more civilized lands.”
Baraz left Takri alone by the windows. The younger man took a deep breath of the cold night air, feeling it fill his lungs and calm his nerves. Yelena was right, danger lurked everywhere. Baraz was dangerous, especially if his position was threatened. But he was nowhere near as dangerous as the blood drinker himself.
Young boys dressed in livery entered the room and began setting a table near the fireplace in preparation for the night's meal. More servants came and went, bringing flagons of wine and candles, along with flowers and platters of fruit and sheep's cheeses. Soon, the table lay covered in food and silver plate atop snow white linen, ready for the guests to begin their feast.
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